


sacrificial (lamb)

by Anonymous



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Please note use of Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: carl has no idea what he’s doing, really, but he knows negan is to blame———cegan drabbles that i, much like carl, have no idea where they’re going bc i write this series drunk
Relationships: Carl Grimes/Negan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> srry i got sucked into this hellship and i might not get out
> 
> ——-
> 
> as a Responsible Adult™ i want to express that in the real world, a relationship like cegan is highly suspect, unhealthy, and likely to be grooming. carl is described as possibly underage (16-17-18) and negan is old af. pls understand that this is fiction for fun, and if u find urself in a “relationship” with a large age gap, while ur a teenager, an adult grooming u, or otherwise unhealthy, to pls reach out to ur trusted friends and family 💖
> 
> this fic has been tagged not rated and chosen not to use archive warnings bc i don’t know where it’s going; it could be completely gen or explicit depending on the drunk muse. keep urself safe; this ship is typically open to a variety of kinks ranging from non-con to vanilla fluff, and it is important to make sure u read only what ur comfortable with on the web. as more is written i may change ratings and add tags as needed.   
ETA: lol muse went 0 to 100 and now we got badly written pr0n. This is now rated E.   
pls enjoy!

Carl isn’t sure what the _fuck_ he’s thinking. 

He’s had crushes before. Shane. Beth. Glenn. Darryl. Enid. He’s a kid that grew up during the zombie apocalypse, but somehow this is the biggest mistake he’s ever made. 

“Hold Lucille for me, would you, babydoll?”

Rick would cry if he ever got the slightest inkling. Michonne would be so disappointed. Judith wouldn’t give a shit, because she’s a literal baby. Hell, she’d probably be thrilled to have Negan around more to hold her and bounce her and feed her spaghetti again, if only to have one more person wrapped around her tiny finger.

Carl _hates _holding Lucille. Doesn’t matter how clean she gets, he can still see Negan, clear as day, using her to destroy Abraham, Glenn. Countless others that Carl hasn’t personally witnessed.

The disgust still isn’t enough to stop him from looking at Negan, though. 

It’s not enough to stop thinking about what Negan’s stubble would feel against Carl’s neck. What his lips would feel like, roaming his chest. What his hands, with those thick fingers — _ones that killed Abraham and Glenn — _would feel like around his throat, his waist, his _cock —_

“That last walker leave you with any brain cells, or are you just playing young, dumb, and full of come, sweetheart?”

Carl looks up and glares. “Gimme the fuckin’ bat.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Negan chides, smirk in full force as he wags Lucille in front of Carl’s face. “You gotta be sweet to a lady like Lucille; didn’t Daddy Rick teach you any manners?”

Carl is getting real sick of the pet names, the filthy smirks, the use of _daddy_ and all the sexual comments.

It just doesn’t _mean _anything to Negan, and it shouldn’t mean anything to Carl, but he’s somewhere along 16-17-18 and it’s like everything Negan says is hardwired straight to Carl’s dick. 

“Say it _sweet_, baby. You know what happens when Lucille doesn’t get the lovin’ she deserves.”

Carl doesn’t want to be _sweet_, for Negan, but he also prefers Alexandria’s population stable, not lowering, so. 

Carl swallows his pride. “Sorry, Lucille,” he grits out. He sticks out his hand for the bat. “Can I look after her for you, _sir?”_

Negan gets a kick out of the address, every time. “You gonna take real good care of her, Carl?”

Negan’s teasing him, but he’s not dragging it out. He used Carl’s name too easy, too fast. 

“Yes,” Carl says, trying to keep the mulish tone out of his voice as best as possible. By Negan’s crinkled eyes, he’s not as successful as he’d hoped. 

“You’re gonna love her? Please her?”

Christ, Carl needs another sex talk about this fucking bat like he needs another hole in the head. 

He snaps, way too fucking easy for Negan. “Just pass her over, would you? We don’t have all day. Some of us have actual work to do.”

Negan laughs, and twirls Lucille around in the air so that he catches her by the barbed wire. He’s not afraid. He’s the one that wields the power among Alexandria, no matter what end of a weapon he has. There’s no way Carl will ever be in control, completely, around him. 

Negan steps close, too close, nearly backing Carl up against a tree. Carl wants to raise his arms up, protect himself, maybe rest them on Negan’s forearms, drag them up onto his shoulders, link behind his neck. Lean in. 

“Take her for me, baby,” Negan murmurs, breath hot in Carl’s ear. He taps the end of the bat, ever so softly, against Carl’s lips. “You can take her.”

“Okay,” Carl chokes out, unable to look anywhere but Negan’s smirking face. _“Okay.”_

His heart is beating so fast, it almost feels like a walker is about to bite him. Fuck, even taking down walkers doesn’t feel like this. Negan, looking Carl up and down, pointedly finishing on the base of Lucille tapping against Carl’s bottom lip. 

Carl lets out a shaky breath; without looking away from Negan’s gaze, he grips the handle of the bat. 

As he takes Lucille from Negan’s hand, he tries to push away, tries to get some space between them. 

Negan pushes him closer to the tree and eats up any remaining space. Lucille is the only thing separating them now. Carl can’t stop thinking about how warm Negan is, how solid he feels, how easy it would be to press forward that last inch and slot their lips together. See if he can taste the filth that so easily falls from Negan’s. 

Like Negan can read Carl’s mind, he pulls back slightly and pats his cheek patronizingly. 

“Good boy.”

Carl shivers, and tries not to feel disappointed that Negan didn’t close the distance. He tries not to feel like he’s made a deal with the devil.

He’s made enough mistakes during the apocalypse. He doesn’t need to make another. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set in some nebulous future after the first chapter

Carl tries really hard not to think about Negan’s wives. It tends to be a little more difficult to ignore them when one of them is bouncing naked on Negan’s lap, in the same room that Negan destroyed any sense of virginity Carl had left. The same room that they sleep together in, the same room that Negan doesn’t let any of his wives sleep in. 

Carl knows he’s _special, _in that he’s the only guy Negan’s fucking. It doesn’t stop jealousy from rearing its ugly head. 

The thing is, Carl knows that Negan won’t get rid of his wives.

_Special_ doesn’t mean shit. 

“Babydoll, just because I call it a pussy, doesn’t mean you actually have one. A man has _needs.”_

Carl is taking some time back in Alexandria to cool off. 

In general, Carl tries not to think about the wives. Their way of life in the Sanctuary is so incongruous with life outside, that they almost don’t even seem real. Nowadays, Negan barely mentions them. He’s always all over Carl; biting hickies onto his throat, pressing bruises into his hips, fucking him full of his come. He doesn’t really have time to visit them. 

Of course, they still have a lot of time to visit Negan. 

Carl thinks he could probably handle it as long as he doesn’t have to see it. He can pretend that Negan’s slipped out to count inventory, having a drink with Simon, fuck, even turning someone’s face to melted cheese as long as he doesn’t see where Negan actually goes. He can’t fucking handle it when they step into the one space Carl has in the Sanctuary.

Carl knows his priorities have shuffled a bit. 

* * *

His dad is the last person Carl wants to have this talk with. 

“He didn’t hurt you, did he, Carl?” Rick demands as soon as Carl shows up. When Carl left Alexandria with Negan, they estimated he’d be back home in about four weeks. 

It’s been six days. 

Carl has never felt more like an indignant teenager. “Dad, can you cool it until we get to the house?”

“Carl, I gotta know—”

Carl rolls his eye. “Look, I’m fine, okay? I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Negan’s not—”

“It doesn’t matter!” Rick barks. “Men like him, they turn like snakes—”

“Can we _please,” _Carl begs, pulling his hat down farther to hide his face, “_not _have this conversation in front of everybody guarding the gate right now?”

Thankfully, Rick hasn’t completely lost all sense of civility. He takes a look at how exhausted Carl looks, knows there’s a reason he’s home early. Knows that for some godforsaken reason, Negan’s taken an interest in Carl that mostly seems invested in keeping him whole and alive. 

“Dad, please,” Carl sighs. 

That’s his kid. Rick can’t do much in the way of parenting in this shitty new world, but he can damn well try his best to keep Carl safe and secure. He can get his kid home and fed before interrogating him.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Rick says. “C’mon, dinner’s even ready for ya. Got something special.”

“As long as it’s not spaghetti, I really don’t care,” Carl mutters. 

Rick laughs. “Looks like you’re gonna care.”

“Jesus _Christ.”_

* * *

Carl doesn’t give Rick time to interrogate him. He hugs Michonne, plucks Judith from her arms and a bowl of food from the table, and heads upstairs. 

“Please don’t ever be stupid over a guy, Judy,” Carl begs after laying her down to sleep. “Especially one with, like, seven wives. Then you’re just asking for trouble.”

Judith gurgles happily. 

“Yeah, okay,” Carl rolls his eye, “you say that now and then all of a sudden you’ve lost all control of your life.”

Carl watches Judith fall asleep, then retires to his own room with the nest of blankets masquerading as a bed. One more fucking thing to remind him of Negan.

* * *

“I’m not getting rid of them, Carl.”

It’s been five days since Carl left the Sanctuary. He’s got this shit locked down _tight. _

“That’s fine,” Carl says evenly. “I get it.” It’s not fine, and he only barely gets it in that the idea of monogamy is laughable to a man like Negan, especially during the apocalypse. Monogamy seems pretty fucking dandy to Carl. 

The shitty thing is, no one’s ever made Carl feel the way Negan does. Negan doesn’t treat him like a kid like everyone else. Negan puts him on a pedestal and parades him around the Sanctuary like he’s gonna make Carl the leader one day and then hides him away in his room where no one is allowed to touch him but Negan. 

Carl doesn't want to give that up for the world. 

Negan looks skeptical. He knows that Carl doesn’t like to give up without a fight. It’s one of the things that makes him so fun to break. 

“Babydoll—”

Thank Christ. 

“Look,” Carl says. “I said it’s fine, okay? But I’m laying down some ground rules.”

“Carl—”

Shit, back on thin ice. He’s still gonna go for it, though. 

“It’s not an ultimatum,” Carl says firmly. “I just don’t want to fucking know, okay? Don’t tell me you’re seeing them, or they’re coming to see you.” That’s the easy part. Negan mostly did that in the first place, joking about how all his little wives got jealous of the others being mentioned. The next part kinda sucks. “And I don’t— I don’t want them in our room. Or— I don’t want to see them coming and going from your room, okay? If you’re gonna do that, at least give me my own room at the Sanctuary.” That is the last fucking thing Carl wants, but he’s sick of the nausea that jealousy brings when he sees the wives coming and going. At least locked in his own room it’s less likely Negan will fuck them in there, too. 

Too bad Negan snorts. “Yeah, no, that ain’t happening, sweetheart.”

“Look, I’m not coming back until you either stop them coming into your room, or give me my own,” Carl says. It’s so hard to say under Negan’s glare. Fuck Negan’s needs, Carl is a teenage boy with a teenage sex drive. There’s no way a man with seven wives is having a worse time with this. It’s been eleven days.

“Like hell you’re staying in any room but mine,” Negan barks. Before he can continue, Carl interrupts. 

“Great, so that means I won’t ever see them again?” 

“You’re such a jealous, needy bitch, baby.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I’ll consider it, okay?”

Fuck it. Good enough. It’s been eleven days and Negan hasn’t shaved. Carl wants to feel it scrape the insides of his thighs. 

What’s one more shitty deal with the devil?

“Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk when where i just needed some softness whoops and some pr0n i guess

It’s been raining nonstop for three days. Negan’s been swearing nonstop for those same three days. 

“Fuckin’ goddamn _mud—”_

Negan’s been outside dealing with fences and walkers and mud. 

Carl’s been getting over a cold, watching gleefully from a window as Negan slipped no less than three times in the mud and actually witnessed Simon eat shit _twice. _

“Isn’t the rain so great?” Carl says happily. Negan’s busy flinging his mud and rain-soaked clothes all over the floor, but he still manages to flip the bird at Carl. 

Carl, bundled up under four blankets in their bed, watches Negan shiver, naked. He bites his lip as he watches Negan stalk over to him, eyes sharp and hungry. 

“I’m a little cold, baby,” Negan drawls, climbing over top of Carl and caging him between his arms. “You gonna warm me up?”

Carl snorts. “That’s the saddest fuckin’ line you’ve ever used on me.” He still raises his chin up for a kiss. Negan obliges; turns a few chaste kisses into a long, filthy, open-mouthed fuck. 

“You smell like dirt,” Carl says dazedly when they pull away from each other. 

“That’s the sexiest line you’ve ever used on me,” Negan laughs. “C’mon, let me under there. Lemme see what you’re wearing.”

“If you’re hoping for lingerie, you’re going to be severely disappointed.”

Carl peels back his pile of blankets, revealing a dark grey henley and briefs. 

Negan raises an eyebrow. “That mine?” He grins. No shit it is. Its neck reveals too much of Carl’s collarbone and shoulder; too much fabric is bunched and twisted around his torso; the hem reaches his mid-thigh. Carl rolls his eye and doesn’t bother with an answer. 

“Get under here, already. It’s getting fuckin’ cold.”

“Bossy bitch,” Negan laughs. “Lucky I like that mouth.”

“You’re lucky I put up with you,” Carl grumbles. He shivers as Negan slides in beside him, pulling the blankets back over top. Negan presses a few wet kisses to his exposed shoulder, before slipping his arms around Carl’s waist and his hands up his borrowed henley.

“Your hands are freezing,” Carl bitches as Negan gropes at his chest. “Jesus, do you need to manhandle me?”

Negan bites at the crook of Carl’s neck, squeezing his nipples. “But your tits are so pretty, baby, they keep my hands so warm.”

Carl wants to _die_ every time Negan calls them that. He’s flatter than an ironing board. It shouldn’t be hot at all.

Negan huffs a laugh against his neck at the squeak he gets out of Carl from pinching a nipple. He rocks his hips up against Carl, seeking friction and heat. 

“C’mon baby,” Negan husks out, “warm me up.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliche plot is cliche

Carl nearly shits himself when Negan says it first. The worst part is it’s basically a fucking joke, but Carl’s heart still goes into overdrive. 

“Holy _shit!”_ Negan whoops. “Did you boys see what Carl just did? I fuckin’ _love_ this kid!”

It doesn’t mean anything. But Jesus, that fucking word has no business being in Negan’s mouth, especially with Carl’s name in the same sentence. Well. Close enough. 

It’s been about seven months that their odd little affair’s been going on. Carl’s accepted that love isn’t in the cards for their... relationship. Fuck, it feels like Negan barely takes him seriously about the rule he set down about the wives, and that happened four months ago. 

There’s no way Negan, that monogamy-avoiding, seven-wives, asshole bat-wielding sociopath is _ever_ gonna say he loves Carl, let alone be the first to say it. And like fuck is Carl ever going to, and especially not first. That’s going to his grave. 

* * *

Jesus Christ, does Negan fucking keep dropping that word nonstop. Who the fuck does he think he is? A well-adjusted person? 

One day, Negan’s gonna say, “Fuck yeah, babydoll, love that sweet fuckin’ ass,” and Carl, like a moron, high on sex, on the verge of tears because he’s getting railed so good, is gonna blurt out, “Fuck yeah, love you too.”

His future was pretty bright until Negan fucked him stupid. 

* * *

Carl’s managed to avoid blurting it out for another two months, and then shit goes south in the way that it always does during the zombie apocalypse. 

Some dumb renegade group attacked the Sanctuary dragging walkers on leashes. No one died from the Sanctuary, but they’re all covered in blood. Good fighters, bad execution. 

Carl’s exhausted, and covered in human and walker guts, and can’t find Negan. 

“Carl, where the _fuck_ are you?” Oh. There’s Negan. A lot less covered in blood and guts. 

“Yeah, no shit, babydoll, you were right in the thick of it.” Great. “Get your skinny ass up; are you hurt anywhere?”

“Jesus, Negan.” Carl blinks. “It wasn’t that bad of a fight.”

Someone beside Negan laughs. “What a fuckin’ little spitfire. Kid, you took out ten of them by yourself.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been outside, I guess,” Carl says dazedly. Ten walkers is nothing.

“_No_, three humans and seven walkers,” Negan growls. If Carl didn’t know any better, he’d almost say Negan sounds upset. 

He supposes that renegade group’s attack was kind of a blindside. Not a huge deal, though.

“Jesus, you little— okay, fuck it.”

Holy _shit_, Negan can pick him up. And carry him. All the way to their room.

“Uh, I feel cheated, how the fuck have you never picked me up and fucked me—”

“That was a stupid fuckin’ stunt you pulled there, Carl!” Oh, shit, Negan’s pissed.

Maybe Carl got knocked on the head a little.

“I _love _you, you stupid little shit, don’t you _ever_ pull something like that again, Christ almighty I’m nearly fifty-five you’re gonna give me a _heart attack.”_

All brain cells have left the building. Carl gapes. “Our age gap is so much worse than I thought.”

“Is that,” Negan says dangerously, “what you got out of that?”

“Would you give me a second?” Carl says, voice increasing in pitch. “I’m trying to process! I had resigned myself to never hearing you say it! I can fight walkers all day, okay, this is a completely different situation!”

“Great, forget about it,” Negan snaps. 

Well, then Negan kind of lunges at Carl and they make good use of Negan’s arm strength, and then they kind of... forget about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looks like this is gonna need a sequel 🤔


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i live for rick discovering cegan 🤯

Rick’s voice is doing that godawful thing to Carl’s name, where he stretches it out and it sounds like _Coooraaaal._

Rick’s on his knees at Carl’s feet, gripping at Carl’s jeans. “Carl,” he warbles; Carl flinches. “Carl, please tell me— he didn’t—you didn’t—”

This is exactly why Carl never should have gotten involved with Negan. Love’s not in the cards for them; this thing was only gonna end in disaster and destroy his dad. 

Carl has no idea what to say. Nothing’s gonna make his dad look at him the same way again. He’s lucky Rick hasn’t put both Negan and Carl out of their misery. 

Jesus, what Rick saw in the woods wasn’t even that bad. Negan was kissing his fucking _palm. _

It might have a little something to do with the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. 

Carl feels like he might start hyperventilating. He’s so out of his fucking depth, here. He can’t believe how stupid he was to ever think this could ever stay a secret, ever work out well. 

What the fuck was Rick gonna do if Carl brought Negan home like some fucking normal family shit from before the apocalypse? Clap Negan on the back, forgive him for murdering their friends, and call him his son-in-law? Negan’s older than _Rick._

Jesus, it was just a kiss on the hand, how the fuck did it all unravel so quickly? 

The worst part is that Negan’s not even beside him. Rick waited until he left with the rest of the Saviors, and cornered Carl alone. Negan would have spun some sort of tale of a new form of harassment; Carl immediately choked and didn’t know where to begin lying. He has no idea what his dad’s planning; Negan has no idea things are falling to shit. 

Carl loves his dad. He loves Negan. He has no idea what the fuck to do besides drop to his knees beside Rick and beg. 

“Dad, please, okay, it was _nothing—”_

“Carl,” Rick chokes out, “that wasn’t _nothin_’, he was _touchin_’ you, Jesus, what _else_ has he—”

“_Nothing_, Dad, I _swear_—”

“How _long_, Carl? How long has he been hurting you?”

“He’s _not_, Dad, God, _please_—”

“Son, my baby boy,” Rick chokes. 

This is such a disaster. Carl’s so fucking stupid. He’s too used to letting Negan handle things. “Dad, _fuck_, I _love_ him—”

Rick looks at him, eyes wet and wide with apoplectic horror. 

Carl is so _fucked. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i also live for cegan engagement 💍


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of the most fascinating kinks ive ever seen in a fandom but there is not enough of it so im here to do it poorly

After a long day, Negan busts out a half-bottle of shitty whiskey and Carl proceeds to get drunk. 

The first shot, he chokes, eyes watering. The next six go down pretty easy, and then Negan hides the bottle from him under the table. Drunk Carl doesn’t look very hard, but he’s pretty confident Negan’s some sort of magician to make it disappear like that. 

“Okay, okay,” Carl slurs. “I’m just gonna come out and say it. What the actual _fuck_ is with you and my eye socket?”

Negan grins, wide and filthy. “Baby, you wanna know why I’m obsessed with that pretty pink hole of yours?”

Carl waves his hand dismissively and nearly smacks the table. “Okay, like, I get your weird thoughts that it looks badass, which, by the way, is complete _bullshit_, but like, why are you always _looking_ at it?”

Negan licks his lips obnoxiously. Drunk Carl’s eyes can’t fuckin’ move from them. “I think you know why,” he leers. He leans halfway across the table and drunk Carl tries to lean in, but. Table. 

“Oh, my god,” Carl huffs, pushing away from the table and standing up, wobbly. “You’re so far away; why the fuck are you _so_ far away from me?”

Negan laughs and pats his lap. “C’mere, babydoll.” Carl trips ungracefully onto his thighs. “Aw, poor Bambi’s never been drunk before, huh?”

Carl glares up at him. “_Duh. _Who— who exactly do you think my father is? _Not_ Ranger Rick?”

Negan sighs, pulling Carl up properly to sit in his lap. “God, what I wouldn’t give to hear you call him that to his face.”

“Shane gave me a shot of gin once, though,” Carl continues, ignoring Negan, “I was like, six or something? It was so gross; it tasted like nail polish and flowers and Shane laughed and told me it would put hair on my chest.” Carl looked mutinously down at his shirt-covered chest. “That was a big fuckin’ lie, though.”

“Aren’t you just a Chatty Cathy?” Negan laughs. 

Carl glares. “Who the fuck is Cathy? Negan, I fuckin’ _told you_ I don’t wanna hear about your wives—”

“_You’re _Cathy, genius.”

Drunk Carl squints at him. “Is this it? Are you finally going fuckin’ senile, old man? My _name _is _Carl_; holy shit, you’ve only been screwing me for the past five months—”

“Call me a senile old man again and I’ll show you what that pretty hole is for,” Negan says darkly, poking at Carl’s cheek below the gouge. 

Carl bats his hand away. “Oh fuck, okay, right, so what the fuck is up with you and it? Like, you’ve got me into a lot of filthy shit but even I don’t think an eye socket’s gonna do anything for you.” Carl glances down at the hardness under his ass and frowns. “Is this ‘cause of me or the hole?”

“It’s your holes,” Negan deadpans. He grabs Carl’s ass and squeezes. “You’ve got a few nice ones.”

“Yeah, _okay,_ but what’s with _this one?”_ Carl nearly shoves his whole finger in the socket. 

Negan hums, rocking his hips up a bit, testing the waters. Carl lets out a gasp. “Baby, I’ve _told_ you,” he says, pulling Carl closer to kiss up his neck, over his jaw, around the gaping hole. He rests a fingertip just on the bottom edge. “This badass shit turns me on like nothin’ else. You should see yourself covered in blood, fighting walkers with just a knife. It gets me hard just thinkin’ about it.” Negan pulls Carl even closer, rolls his hips up again and pulls a soft moan from those pretty lips. “Who the fuck else is as badass as you?” His finger strokes along the edge of the hole. “Who the fuck has lived through this shit and still come out swingin’ at _me?”_

Carl shudders, clinging tightly to Negan’s shoulders and rocking against his movements. “Me?”

“You’re goddamn right, sweetheart,” Negan growls. “So I wanna see that pretty hole all the time. I don’t ever wanna see you hiding that shit; I want everyone to know how badass you are.” He bites at Carl’s jaw. “And I wanna see how pink you are inside all the time, think about getting my fingers and my cock inside you when we’re outside and I know that color matches that other pretty hole I love so much—”

“Jesus, Negan, _fuck,”_ Carl whines. “Okay, I get it, please, I wanna come, _please_—”

“That’s it, babydoll, c’mon, come for daddy—”

Carl chokes and comes on the next breath, shaking. “You’re _so gross,”_ he whines, muffled in Negan’s neck, fingers twisted tight in his shirt. “My father is a _saint—”_

“Your father is barely a sheriff, he sure as hell ain’t no saint.” Negan rolls his eyes, nuzzling at Carl’s socket. “C’mon baby, let Daddy fuck that other pretty hole?”

“Ugh, God, _obviously.”_

“I’m gonna finger you until you _cry_,” Negan grins. 

“Oh, great. More eye stuff.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heavily inspired by wildflowers by gemjam aka my fav twd fic ❤️
> 
> in the snk eruri fandom there was a fic called has audacity fucking updated yet. it would update every time the author would check to see if the amazing fic had updated yet, but hadn’t. here’s mine. 
> 
> has applied calisthenics updated yet?

No. No way. Absolutely fucking _not. _

“If you think,” Carl says sharply, “that for one second, I’ll even _entertain _the idea—”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” Negan drawls, spinning the offensive item in question around his index finger. “You’d look so fuckin’ pretty—”

“Oh, well when you put it that way— no! I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but you’ve got wives for a reason, Negan. In case you missed it, I’m actually a guy!”

The thing is, Carl’s thought about it. A lot, in fact. Wonders what it’s like to be one of Negan’s wives, dressed up all pretty with no job other than to wait for the great Negan himself to show up. 

Carl would lose his mind with boredom in two days. The thought of waiting around for Negan to show up to fuck reminds him uncomfortably of how they would wait for him to show up and steal everything in Alexandria. Being a wife is entirely unappealing, not that he would ever be. Negan has bigger plans for Carl. 

Being dressed up pretty, on the other hand... does not seem so unappealing. Negan is pushing this shit way too fast, though. Carl’s barely made it through figuring out if he wants to look at the wives because he’s attracted to them, jealous of what they have, or both. 

Carl sees the stuff Negan brings back for them. Lacy, gauzy, delicate, _pretty_ things that make Carl’s stomach twist. At first, Carl figured it was because he hated any reminder of the wives, and then in a pique of curiosity and resentment, had run his fingers across the lingerie. 

He’s pretty sure the twist in his stomach is jealousy; that he can’t possibly wear these like the wives can, that he has no business wanting to even try, that Negan would laugh himself sick that Carl would think he could ever compare with them. 

The way he’s watching Carl now, predatory, smirking, twirling a black lace pair of panties around his finger feels like he’s playing a massive joke. Carl feels like he did when Negan first demanded he take off the bandages, humiliated him into singing. 

Carl’s face feels hot and his throat tight. “Are you _done?”_

Negan frowns, sits up straighter. He tosses the panties onto the table. “What’s with you? Jesus, Carl, I wasn’t being serious.”

Christ, hearing him confirm it feels awful. Carl tries not to think about how fucking stupid he would have looked, if he let curiosity get the better of him, if he had let himself play into another one of Negan’s schemes and actually put them on. 

“God, whatever,” Carl chokes out, and oh _fuck, _he is _not _getting out of this without tearing up. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with him? It’s just a fucking joke. 

Negan’s eyes widen almost comically. He stands up, cautiously takes a step towards Carl. Carl flinches, crosses his arms and takes a step back. “Jesus, babydoll, are you _crying? What the actual fuck?”_

_“No,” _Carl spits out automatically. Negan takes another step forward; Carl takes another back and ends up against the wall. 

“Aw, jeez, kid, c’mon,” Negan says, looking deeply uncomfortable. Good. What a fucking asshole. “You know I hate making you cry; what the fuck, baby?” Carl doesn’t have anywhere to go anymore, so Negan crowds him up against the wall. “Talk to me, tell me I’m a bastard, Jesus, please stop crying, sweetheart.” He wipes away the tears gathering on Carl’s cheek, slowly strokes his hair away from his damp face. 

Carl tries to scowl, bats his hands away from his face. “I’m not _crying.”_

Well. Kinda. 

The thing about Negan is Carl loves how obsessed Negan is with him. He gets Carl like no one else does; can peer into his soul and drag out all the dark Carl likes to pretend he’s too good to have. The attraction is mutual, Carl doesn’t feel like he’s on uneven ground because Negan treats him like an equal, like he respects him. He can take a single look at Carl and figure out exactly what he’s feeling. 

“Carl,” Negan says firmly, grasping him gently by the chin, tilting his head up to look him in the eye. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The way Negan commands, there’s no disobeying. Carl wonders if other people will ever follow him like that, when Negan’s through with him.

“I don’t— can you please not joke about that?” Carl whispers. “Like, I get that I’m not— _good_ enough, or whatever, I’m not like _them,_ but do you have to— keep rubbing it in my face, like this?”

“Jee-_sus,”_ Negan breathes out. “Holy shit, Carl, are you fuckin’ serious?”

“No,” Carl scowls, “I’m just crying like an idiot for no reason. _Asshole.”_

“Okay,” Negan says, narrowing his eyes. He sets his hands on Carl’s shoulders, gripped tight. “You, first of all, my little rad-ass, bad-ass serial killer—”

“I just don’t know what you want,” Carl chokes out quickly. “I don’t even know what _I _want, and you’re pushing it too fast. I’m already missing an eye, I don’t want to be even more of a freak.”

“Listen, kid, I’ve been into dick longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve seen some of the wildest shit your adorable little brain could not even comprehend, and that was pre-all this bullshit. Sex is supposed to be fun. Putting on a pair of underwear is not supposed to cause this kinda reaction.”

“Yeah, but I don’t _know, _Negan. I’m not— I’m not a _girl. _Sometimes I feel like you forget that.”

“It’s a piece of clothing, Carl,” Negan says lowly.

“Barely,” Carl snorts.

Negan’s mouth twists up at the corner. “I am way out of my depth here, but I’ve been around a long time, kid, and trying out a pair of underwear for an hour doesn’t change whatever you identify as. This kinda shit is supposed to be fun. And it can be a quick yes or no, okay? When I say it’s a joke, I mean that we can have a quick laugh about you thinking I’m out of my mind for suggesting something you don’t like, not that I’m making fun of you.”

“But I don’t _know,” _Carl stresses. “I’ve never even thought about anything like this before you.”

“Okay. Okay.” Negan nods to himself, studying Carl’s face intently. “You want to try it by yourself?” Negan guesses. “Maybe it’s something you keep to yourself, in the end.”

Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.

“I still don’t think I can wear anything like that,” Carl nods his chin at the black lace on the table. “Isn’t there anything... less tight? Revealing?” _Girly, _he wants to say, with a twist of shame in his stomach. “Fuller?” Maybe less of a fucking string, that’s for sure.

“Sure,” Negan laughs. “There’s all kinds. I could even get you a babydoll, babydoll.”

“What is that?” Carl says carefully. “Because that sounds like maybe the worst kind.”

“Kinda like a dress—”

_“No,” _Carl interrupts. “Nothing— girly. I’m not— I just want to try. I don’t want to try anything that isn’t— me. Do you— do you get that?”

“Yeah, baby, I get it. You don’t even gotta show me, if you don’t want to.” Negan kisses Carl quick before he can interrupt. “Of fucking _course _I wanna see, Carl. But the thing about you is I aways wanna see you break for me because you decide to. I can make anyone do whatever I want, I don’t give a shit about that. It’s so much sweeter when you break yourself for me, instead.”

Carl shudders, shifting closer to Negan. He rests his head on his shoulder, brings his arms around his waist. “I like it better like that, too.”

“What colour you want, huh, baby?” Negan cajoles, grinning. “Love to see you in my colours. Or blue, match that pretty eye of yours.”

Carl shrugs. “You decide,” he says quickly.

A week later, Carl finds an innocuous white box sitting on the table in their room. Negan’s gone out somewhere. Carl has an inkling as to what’s inside.

It’s wrapped in tissue paper and so soft. Blue, like his eye. Carl runs his fingers over the bottoms, more like shorts than anything he’s seen Negan bring the wives. Still lace, but not see-through.

Unexpectedly, there’s a top, too. A cropped tank top, Carl thinks, for lack of better information. It’s just as soft, matching the bottoms in colour. Carl lays them both on the table, admiring the way they go together.

_Pretty,_ Carl thinks. Negan calls him pretty all the time. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> underneath more tissue paper is a red and black babydoll. carl throws it in negan’s smirking face. 
> 
> i have a pet peeve when ppl describe lingerie as itchy lace. you pay for the nice shit, it’s nice. negan got him the nice stuff. 
> 
> anyway as much as i love cegan lingerie shenanigans, i also love the idea of carl exploring himself with negan’s full support. from a meta standpoint, i almost wonder how much of a difference the apocalypse would have on carl and his willingness to explore— zombie world with negan where no one really gives a shit bc end of the world and negan can get anything and is a hedonist, vs carl in a well brought up patriarchal society with social pressures on a stereotypical sheriffs son.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter was mildly serious. let’s get porny.

Carl is so, _so_ warm and comfortable. Negan runs like a furnace, has all the soft, fuzzy blankets Carl could ask for, and a love for indulging practically Carl’s every whim. 

* * *

The night before, Carl had peppered kisses across Negan’s face as Negan bit his throat, jerking his hips one last time, burying his come deep inside. 

“So _good_ for me, sweetheart,” Negan had growled into Carl’s throat. “So _slutty,_ that’s my baby.” He circled his hips a few times more, then braced his hands on Carl’s hips to pull out, before Carl stopped him. 

“Wait, wait,” Carl breathed out. “Stay— stay in me?” Come-drunk, he sighed, pulling closer to Negan. “You’re so _warm_, Negan,” his breath hitched. “Stay in me? Keep me warm all night.”

“Christ, baby,” Negan groaned. This boy was going to be the death of him. “I’ll keep you warm; keep that cum warm inside you, too; plug that pretty pussy up all night, for you.”

Carl whined, burying his face in Negan’s chest. “I wanna fall asleep, just like this, wanna wake up to you fucking me full again.”

“You’re so _filthy_, baby,” Negan smirked. “Love fuckin’ this pretty hole of yours, gonna love just being able to start fuckin’ you awake no problem—”

“Love you, too,” Carl moaned. 

“Yeah, baby?” Negan grinned wide. “Fucked that right out of you; you even gonna remember sayin’ that, tomorrow?”

“No,” Carl said stubbornly. 

Negan laughed. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

* * *

So Carl is sleep-warm and drifting lazily in-and-out of consciousness, when he feels Negan’s heart rate change, breathing alter. 

Then he remembers last night. 

His eye snaps open, horrified, locking onto Negan’s grinning face. 

“Thought you’d get away with that one, huh, baby?” he teases, softly grazing Carl’s nipples with his thumbs. “It’s okay. You can pretend.” He pulls Carl underneath him, grasping his wrists in one hand. His other runs along Carl’s body, tickling his ribs and bringing goosebumps alive underneath the path it traces.

Negan leans in close to Carl, blanketing his whole body. “I’ll just fuck it outta you again, baby boy, get you crying about how much you love Daddy’s dick, until I’m all you’re thinkin’ about.” He presses a single, wet kiss underneath Carl’s ear, and Carl lets out a whimper. 

“Negan, oh my God,” Carl whines, hips bucking. “Please, please—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> five stars carl, negan really fucked that love confession out of u, u absolute disaster


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *disappears for a month and shows up with porn*  
warning for filthy degrading porn via negan’s mouth. it uh,,,, gets real bad. carl saying no, choking, spanking, feminization, slut-shaming, vaguely mentioned grimescest, gang rape, watersports, socket fuckin, and having sex with walkers. they don’t actually happen but negan doesn’t shut up about them. it's all consensual tho, and some bad excuse for aftercare at the end.
> 
> i am so sorry god. this is ur reminder that ykinmkato, and this is fantasy, not a depiction of a healthy relationship. have fun?
> 
> (incidentally i spent time in the anti-harringrove tag bc i like to torture myself and boy oh boy. those antis better not find out about the kinks we got in the cegan fandom cuz in comparison? harringrove is so tame.)

“Daddy’s gonna _bruise_ those guts, baby,” Negan growls into his ear, ending with a bite to the lobe. “Gonna paint your insides white and _messy.”_

Negan’s got a hand wrapped dangerously tight around Carl’s throat, and the other pressing Carl’s own hand to his bulging stomach, growing and shrinking with every thrust of Negan's cock. 

“You feel that, baby?” Negan grunts. “That’s daddy’s dick stretching you out, breeding your cunt _deep.”_

Carl whines, high and needy. 

“That’s _right,”_ Negan croons. “That’s my good little slut, crying to get fucked like a bitch in heat.”

“I’m not a slut,” Carl chokes out.

“Yes you are, sweetheart,” Negan laughs. “You’re so desperate for cock I bet you’d even let daddy Rick fuck you silly. God, you’d fuck anything with a cock big enough.”

Carl jerks his head. “N-no, I—”

“Bet you’d let a walker breed your cunt,” Negan continues viciously. “Bet you’d go out and drop face down, ass up for the first one you see. Bet you’d find a whole horde and let them gang-rape you, huh, baby? Be the cum-dump that you are for a bunch of dead cock?”

Negan slaps Carl’s ass, continuing his hard, long, savage thrusts into the boy. Carl is unable to do anything but lie there and take it, drooling from pleasure and lack of oxygen.

“Aw, my little fuck doll,” Negan grins. “That’s it, darlin’, take daddy’s dick. My pretty little cockslut. Remember when you were my sweet little virgin, crying on my cock the first time? You could barely take the tip? Look at you now, taking daddy’s huge dick with only spit. You’d take everythin' I'd give, wouldn’t you? My cock, my come, my _piss.”_

“Negan,” Carl whines, tears messily covering his face. “Please—”

“That’s it, baby, _cry_ for daddy. Beg daddy for it. You’re mine, my little _bitch,”_ Negan coos, licking up the side of Carl's face to the edge of his empty socket, tonguing dangerously at the rim. “Come on my cock, baby, you don’t need that pretty clit touched, you can come just from daddy fucking your hole. I’m gonna breed that boypussy up, knock you up like a slut like you deserves. It's all you're good for, baby.” 

_“_N-no—”

“I’m gonna fill up that slutty hole of yours, then I’m gonna eat you out and spit in your pretty mouth,” Negan says sweetly, thumbing across Carl’s cherry red lips. “How’s that sound, baby? If you're good, daddy won't have to skullfuck you in that pretty hole he loves.” He pulls out of Carl roughly, letting go of his boy's throat to let him choke and gasp on air while he flips him over onto his knees, shoving the boy's face down into the pillow and pulling his ass back onto his cock.

“You look so good like this, kitten. You need this, huh? My perfect little pillow princess, needs daddy’s cock to fill that loose fuckhole. Think you could take two cocks at once?”

Carl cries out and comes, spilling out all over the bed. Negan hooks a finger into his mouth from behind, another two pressing into Carl's damaged socket, and grunts, coming hard and deep inside the boy. Pulling out sharply, Negan grins and slaps Carl's reddened cheeks.

“You ready for daddy to eat your pussy out and feed you your treat?”

* * *

“You good, sweetheart?” Negan murmurs after, licking the trails of tears on Carl's face. 

“Stay— stay on top of me,” Carl whines, burying his face down and wiping his tears on Negan’s chest. “Negan—”

“I got you, babydoll, I got you, what do you need?”

“Inside— God, please, I— your cock, please—”

“Gotta give me a second, baby, I’m not as young as I used to be.” Negan kisses sloppily over Carl’s jaw. 

“No, I don’t— I just want you inside me again, don’t fuck me, I just—”

“Feel empty, baby?” Negan coos. His precious little fuck doll, so _needy._

“I feel like I’m gonna float away,” Carl hiccups. “Please, in me, again?”

“You know the magic word, babydoll.”

_“Please,_ daddy?”

“You got it, kitten.”

**Author's Note:**

> carl u gotta try a little tenderness chicks love that romantic crap


End file.
